


Teaching Zemnian and Other Ways to Kick Nervous Habits

by Castir



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, please see the chapter headers for specific tags, they all end on a happy note though, they're all fairly different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-23 00:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castir/pseuds/Castir
Summary: Caleb does a lot of anxious things.Or: the various ways everyone tries to keep him from doing anxious things.





	1. Teaching Zemnian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb doesn't even realize he does it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied/Referenced Self Harm, (its nail biting and its not graphic and is over after a couple paragraphs), Fluff, general silliness

As it turned out, the bandages weren’t there solely to complete the Homeless and Broke aesthetic. Because a keen observer would notice that in fact, they weren’t always there. But if the observer was so appropriately keen, they’d have noticed the reason for this first. And Nott was a very, very keen observer.   
  
She didn’t think much of it the first time she noticed. It didn’t matter if you were a human or a goblin or anything else; everybody had nervous, idle habits and Caleb’s happened to be picking. At anything. But mostly his hands because they were always there.   
  
The second time Nott noticed was because there was suddenly blood. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her fair share of blood, but they hadn’t been in a fight or anything. Caleb didn’t even take notice until he followed Nott’s gaze to the source of the problem. Then all he did was murmur ‘oh’ and fish around in his pockets for the roll of bandage. Nott learned that sometimes, when Caleb’s fingernails were dirty, it wasn’t always just dirt.   
  
She’d watched him once or twice and tried to decide if he even realized what he was doing. He’d be about his day like normal, walking along or sometimes curled into a chair reading, and it would look to anyone else like he just fidgeted with his hands. Nott knew better.   
  
These days she made a game of spotting it before Caleb could do himself any harm. Even if it was just accidental.   
  
“Ah-ha!” Nott sprang over the front seat of the wagon and straight into Caleb’s lap. As she landed she snatched up his hand in one of her own, jerking it away from his mouth where he’d had his thumb nail between his teeth.   
  
Her flying entrance was rather jarring, needless to say, and not only did Caleb nearly jump out of his own skin (he and several of the others did as well), but his book went flying out of his other hand and clattered noisily to the cart floor.   
  
“What is going on, why did you—?” Caleb looked between Nott and his fallen book, struggling for a moment to get out of studying headspace and back into reality. His brow furrowed when Nott wrapped her arms around his,  
  
“You were doing that thing again!” She declared, and seemed very happy to remain sprawled across his lap, “After you’d done so good! Not doing it for days!”  
  
“What is this thing he does?” Jester leaned over to ask. She was riding in the cart as well, busily weaving wild flowers together into necklaces and distributing them as needed. Caleb was already sporting two or three (“He is the closest, and also the stinkiest, he needs the most.” Jester had announced).  
  
“It is nothing,” Caleb said before Nott could open her mouth to over explain. He tugged against her for the return of his arm, “Just a nervous habit I can’t seem to kick. May I have this back now, please? You’re making it very hard for me to read.” Jester was kind enough to pluck the book from the floor and hand it back without a fuss.   
  
“What is there to be nervous about, its a lovely day,” she said, and truly it seemed like genuine curiosity, “Its sunny and warm and there are not even any bandits or murderers at all.”  
  
“Its just a turn of phrase,” Caleb said and fumbled his book open again to where he’d left off. It was difficult one-handed but he managed because it was much preferable to further explaining himself, “Nott, please give me my hand back.”  
  
“No, you’ll just make yourself bleed again and you won’t even realize it!” Nott was very firm in her refusal, and if anything just held on tighter. Caleb wilted a bit in the face of such an accusation, and knew now the subject wouldn’t just be left alone. Jester was right on cue,  
  
“Why are you making yourself bleed?” The ‘thats stupid’ was implied. Certainly everyone had heard it too, and Caleb felt it when several additional pairs of eyes were turned on him. He sank further into his book. Jester, who of course had no sense of when to let a thing die, prattled on, “Molly already does that. The position is full so maybe definitely you should not be making yourself bleed for no reason.”  
  
“I’m _not_ ,” Caleb said insistently, in a way that also sounded quite a bit like ‘drop it, for goodness sake’, “Nobody is bleeding, nobody is hurt, everything is _fine_. Nott—” Glancing down to the obstinate goblin in his lap, Caleb found absolutely the biggest, most stubborn pout flung back at him. He shut his mouth,  
  
“You already get hurt so much looking after me,” Nott said, and whether the tremble in her voice was the usual, or from doggedly stifling tears, Caleb couldn’t tell, “So if the least I can do is keep you from hurting yourself, I’m gonna do it!” With a nod to indicate that was final, Nott scrabbled herself into a marginally more dignified position, seated beside Caleb. She kept a firm hold of his hand as she continued, “And since you never even realize you’re doing it, I’m going to sit here and hold your hand so you can’t.”  
  
Caleb’s breath whooshed out of him in a heavy sigh and he tried very hard to keep the weariness out of his voice, “That is very kind of you, but-“   
  
“It is an excellent idea!” Jester declared before he could even fully finish having the thought. All at once she was across the cart and nestling herself in at his other side, flower necklaces wholly forgotten, “And I will help too!” So speaking she snatched up Caleb’s remaining hand, laced their fingers and placed them in her lap.   
  
For a long second Caleb was too startled to string an intelligent sentence together. He looked helplessly between Jester and his book which had, again, wound up on the floor,  
  
“Its going to be very difficult to read if you _both_ do this,” he said, and it was unfortunate that neither Jester nor Nott seemed to be the slightest bit deterred,  
  
“Nonsense! We will all just read together like a big story time, and everyone will be happy and there will be no bleeding hopefully maybe.” Jester pitched forward, quite nearly dragging Caleb off the bench in her haste, and plucked the fallen book up again. Flipping to an arbitrary page she opened her mouth to begin reading aloud and discovered... Zemnian. She made a loud sort of disappointed noise instead, pulling a face and giving Caleb a shove when he chuckled, “Alright, then mister you think you’re so clever, you read it for us, then!”   
  
Caleb flinched and distractedly worried for the book’s wellbeing when it was unceremoniously dumped back in his lap. Jester reached over and pointed to a portion of text,  
  
“What does this part say?”  
  
“Its... talking about magical theory,” Caleb began, scanning a few lines for context. He’d read this part already and was quite sure it would be of little interest to either of the other two, “How the accompanying gestures and quality of components affect-“  
  
“Yes, yes, yes, but what does it _say_ ,” Jester pressed, leaning in close like proximity to the pages would affect her ability to read it. Caleb sighed, picked a sentence not obscured by her hand, and read it aloud exactly as presented. The author was a bit stuffy, liked to toss in high brow vocabulary and made a big show of the conclusions he’d drawn. So it came as a bit of a surprise when he was interrupted by giggling,  
  
“Is something funny?” Caleb asked, quirking a brow at Jester who’d nearly bent double to stifle her laughter in both her hands, as well as the one of his she was still holding captive.   
  
“No, no it is a very good book.” She squeaked. A glance at Nott revealed the laughter to apparently be infectious as she had a hand clamped over her mouth as well, “Its full of all sorts of good words, keep going, we are so focused.”  
  
Caleb didn’t even get an entire sentence out before he had to stop again for how the girls collapsed into him from giggling,  
  
“I have missed the joke, clearly.” He said and fixed the pair with a rather unimpressed look. It went completely ignored,  
  
“We’re sorry, Caleb, its a really good book, we promise,” Nott could hardly contain herself and hid a bright and toothy smile behind one hand, “Its just got such funny words, is all.”  
  
“Does it.” It wasn’t a question, and Caleb had a couple of guesses as to which words in particular were the culprits. It was not the first time someone had found his native language entertaining and it would very likely not be the last.   
  
“Yes, definitely,” Jester sat up quickly, the biggest most mischievous grin lighting up her face, “Like _EEEECH_!” Her rendition was enough to have both her and Nott in stitches. Caleb, on the other hand, looked rather like he’d been slapped in the face,  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“No, no,” Nott interjected, absolutely shaking trying to contain herself, “Its more like... _ICKK_!”   
  
Caleb had some semblance of a retort in mind, but it was drowned out entirely by their raucous laughter. He heaved a long suffering sigh instead,  
  
“Thats... it just means ‘I’. Of all the words, you think _ich_ —” he gave up on finishing the thought when, amid their helpless laughter the girls breathlessly imitated him.   
  
“It sounds like you are coughing up loogies!” Jester gasped, getting herself together for another delightful butchering of the language before the two dissolved back into uncontained hilarity.   
  
Defeated, Caleb shook his head, “Your accents are just awful. And you,” he glanced up sharply just in time to catch Fjord pretending like he was not also shaking with repressed laughter where he sat driving the cart, “Are not helping.” The clipped, sheepish little ‘sorry!’ he got in reply was at least satisfying.   
  
It had suddenly become quite clear that he was going to be getting little else done that afternoon. And in any case, there was a saying about what to do if one ‘can’t beat them’. Caleb smothered a smile for sake of appearances,  
  
“Anyway, there are plenty funnier words than _ich_ ,” he gave a short pause to allot for the inevitable interruption, and once it had suitably subsided he went on, “Like for instance, _mittwoch_ ,” it had hardly left his tongue before both Jester and Nott got matching expressions of delight and exclaimed,  
  
“Mid-fuck!?” And nearly knocked all three off them off the bench for how they fell all over each other laughing. Fjord apparently fared little better.   
  
Perhaps he wouldn’t be getting much more reading done, and perhaps he wouldn’t have the use of either of his hands for the afternoon. But there were certainly worse ways to spend time than, as it would eventually come to be referred to, ‘teaching Zemnian.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edit] Did a bit of tweaking and so now each chapter is going to have additional tags at the top. The real tags would have been a disaster otherwise. Shooting for Tuesday and Friday updates here, we'll see how I do. Its been an absurd number of years since I did something with multiple parts. Wish me luck :D


	2. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sleeping arrangement is... less than ideal. Molly has the solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/Comfort (kinda), Fluff, Sensory Overload

What had started as a light mist just as evening set in, quickly escalated itself into a drizzle. By the time they’d pitched camp it was slow and soaking. No chance of a camp fire with the local kindling all saturated. And little chance for a dry patch of ground either.   
  
They made do beneath the sparse trees, the driest place to be found on such short notice, stretching a scavenged tarp between the branches overhead and the edge of the cart. Certainly not the prettiest or most comfortable tent, but it was all they could manage.   
  
Darkness quickly fell, and without the cheery warmth of a fire, so too did the temperature. And so want for space was not the only reason the whole motley crew was crammed together on overlapping bedrolls. It seemed to suit most just fine; the sounds of deep breathing and light snoring filling the tent before terribly long.   
  
Most, perhaps, but not all. And if there were any others who were having problems, Caleb certainly couldn’t tell. He was far too busy knotting his fingers into the sleeves of his coat and staring a hole into the edge of the tarp.   
  
He’d claimed a far corner of the tent as his very shortly after it was haphazardly pitched. Along the edge, where yes, perhaps it was a bit more damp, but it afforded him a few extra inches of space, the wet, earthy smell of the rain, and a cool draft of fresh air. He hoped it would be enough. But that was hours ago, and it seemed that particular hope was dashed.   
  
It was too crowded, too noisy, too hot, too many barely familiar people crammed into much, much too small a space. If it wasn’t someone murmuring in their sleep, it was the jarring patter of water from the trees landing on the tent.   
  
Caleb reached a hand beneath the edge of the tarp and tangled his fingers in the sparse grass; cold and wet and a stark change to how the rest of him felt. Something to focus on.   
  
He tried to even his breathing, knew off in some far corner of his mind that he needed to. That he wouldn’t settle until he did. The rain spattering on the back of his hand continued to throw off his rhythm. It was sporadic, he couldn’t predict it, and his attention wandered away from him at every attempt.   
  
Behind his bent legs, Nott was curled up in a ball like a cat, pressed up close in a way that had never bothered Caleb previously. Though with so many extra bodies and he-didn’t-know-whose knees and elbows and boots knocking into him it was downright maddening not to be able to move. Even so much as to stretch.   
  
Where the others seemed perfectly content to sprawl across one another in a wild tangle of arms and legs, Caleb felt every brush of contact like it was needles on his skin. Nothing he did could prevent it either, there had never been enough space beneath the tarp and scooting an inch one way or the other wasn’t going to change anything. Every bit of space he retreated, someone else moved to occupy.   
  
The wind darted by, flapping the unfastened edges of the tent and spattering those inside with a thin layer of rain. A harsh, unwelcome cold on Caleb’s cheeks and ears and he flinched in spite of himself. Someone farther down stirred mid-snore with an unpleasant, wet intake of breath and rolled over to avoid being further dripped on. The tree branches creaked overhead. The rain splattered noisily on the tent and the cart. Somewhere in the distance a frog croaked.   
  
Why hadn’t any of this ever bothered him in the past? Too many people. Too much noise. Too many. Too much. Too loud. Too hot. Too—  
  
“Caleb.”   
  
The voice was so near, so sudden, and so vividly clear amongst the haze of everything else, the man to whom it spoke couldn’t help a sharp gasp, starting like he’d been pulled fresh from an unpleasant dream. He remained frozen for a moment, staring wide eyed and mouth open at nothing, not sure if he’d really heard it or if it was just his imagination running away with him.   
  
A second passed before the sensation of his coat being tugged at accompanied the voice again, “Are you alright?”  
  
Caleb shifted just slightly to peer over his shoulder. It was dark, with no moonlight to aid him, but he could see the shadows of silhouettes. The one right beside him propped up on an elbow, the faintest glimmer of red eyes peering back through the night at him. Molly.   
  
Had he been the one to stand first watch? Caleb could scarcely remember the conversation even taking place. He’d been very concerned for the wellbeing of his books at the time, and choosing his spot in the tent. The outcome hadn’t mattered to him, he was never chosen for first watch, or any watch at all generally speaking, and so he’d put his focus elsewhere.   
  
Or had he woken him somehow? Trying to think on it Caleb found his thoughts far too frayed, and much too jumbled to recall. Had he been making noise? He didn’t know. Hadn’t meant to. He supposed it was certainly possible; he’d woken from nightmares babbling in his native tongue before, not even realizing what he was doing until it woke Nott. Maybe he’d been doing it again. Caleb wished he could remember.   
  
“S-sorry, I—fine. I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a harsh whisper. He wasn’t sure if the twinge of panic was actually audible in it, or if it only sounded that way to his own ears, “Just... restless. Bit crowded. Noisy. Sorry.” He tried for a laugh. It came out humorless and anxious.   
  
He supposed perhaps it may have been enough when the hand that had been tugging his coat for attention withdrew and the soft rustling of cloth announced that Molly was settling back in. Next there was a hand on his shoulder, and even though it was delicately placed it still caused Caleb to jerk away. The contact was somehow too sudden. He wasn’t ready. It took an unreasonable amount of will to keep an unpleasant sort-of-whimper in his throat.   
  
“Turn over, give me your hand,” Molly whispered. His voice was soft, disarming... or maybe just sleepy. But it was clear and controlled and real and Caleb knew he could use a bit of all of that. He gingerly eased himself onto his back, mostly, keeping his legs bent so as not to disturb Nott. If she noticed at all her reaction was imperceptible.   
  
All he could see in the dark was the faint smudge of color where Molly was peering at him with half lidded eyes. No way to gauge his expression whatsoever. Was he mad to have been awoken? Tired and grouchy? Caleb didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, and it was terrifying. The pounding of his heart beat was loud in his ears, deafening on top of everything else. He very desperately wished it would stop. Wished that absolutely everything would just stop.   
  
He tried very hard not to flinch again when Molly took his hand. Not offered, he’d forgotten between the request and the turning over. Even so, Caleb was fairly certain Molly had noticed anyway. He had an eye for details like that. Particularly now, Caleb realized with a sudden sinking feeling settling in his chest, in the dark where he could certainly see much better than any human. Probably had a great view of every panicked detail on Caleb’s face. Fantastic.   
  
He hadn’t realized his hands were clenched into fists until Molly pried his fingers open, scattering bits of uprooted grass as he did so. How long had that been there? His fingertips, when placed on Caleb’s palm were warm and soft, a startling contrast to the cold and wet,  
  
“Breathe.” Molly whispered to him. Quiet, but clear as could be. It blocked out everything else. Caleb couldn’t help but obey. The first breath was shaky and stuttering and half way in he had to bite down on his lip to keep appropriately quiet. The feeling was electric as Molly drew a slow, deliberate circle against his palm and Caleb couldn’t suppress a shudder,  
  
“Again, a deep one now.”   
  
He managed to get to the exhaling part the second time. And the third went even smoother still. Even if the sudden noises of the raindrops and the wind interjected stuttering gasps and flinches. A small, faraway part of him worried his lack of focus was going to get him into trouble. Molly seemed to neither notice nor care,  
  
“Just focus on this.”  
  
The pattern never changed. One circle, one speed, round and round in a consistent, predictable way. Always the same. Breathe. One circle. Exhale. Another. In. Out. Around. Around. Around.   
  
The rain slowly became a quiet static in the background, the deep breathing of the others hardly audible. The chill breeze across Caleb’s face was grounding. His breathing evened, his mind stopped buzzing. The world narrowed down to the sensation of the circle on his palm. Round and round, constant, unceasing. For how long it went on he did not know.   
  
Way off in the back of his head Caleb wondered if this was some sort of magic he was unfamiliar with. He felt so calm, his head clearer, his body heavy and entertaining fantasies of sleep. Such a change couldn’t have possibly derived from something so simple. He opened his mouth to ask but if the words came out he was no longer paying attention to hear the answer.   
  
What was left of the world faded out at the edges until all that remained was the hand in his hand, and eventually that dissolved away too.   
  
  
  
The morning came as a shock when a wayward gust of wind blew back the edge of the tarp, scattering cold, stray raindrops and flooding the dim interior of the tent with the dawn. The various disgruntled noises of its occupants were what woke Caleb finally, and he blinked and tossed his gaze around at the sudden burst of activity.   
  
He didn’t remember falling asleep. It took his mind several moments to get itself back into gear and provide all the relevant memories. At his side, Molly was grumbling inaudibly and pulling his coat-turned-makeshift-blanket over his head to drown out the unwelcome sunlight. Seemingly unaware, or perhaps unwilling to acknowledge the world going on without him.   
  
One by one the others roused themselves and trickled out of the tent. Off somewhere to the side the cart shifted as someone climbed inside, and bags and boxes were moved around in search of the scraps that might come together as a breakfast. When finally everyone else was out and getting on with the morning, Caleb heaved himself up and sat in quiet thought for a moment, his eyes absently roaming over the patches and patterns making up Molly’s coat.   
  
“Got a bit of sleep, then?” The voice startled him and Caleb glanced up to discover the man in question peering at him from beneath the garment, a sleepy, feline smile tugging at the edges of his expression,  
  
“I—yes, I suppose I must have.” He replied and moved to examine the palm of his hand. Other than a bit of extra dirt and a straggling blade of grass or two, nothing seemed to be out of order.   
  
“Mm, good “ Molly said before flinging himself onto his back and stretching out in the plenty of space he could now afford. Caleb watched silently for a moment before his curiosity finally came wandering back again,  
  
“What did you do? Before. I’ve never—?” He watched Molly smile lazily and meet his gaze out the corner of one eye,  
  
“Nothing special,”  
  
“Some magic circus trick, then?”  
  
Molly shook his head, “No magic. Just looked like you needed something else to pay attention to.”  
  
Caleb supposed that was a fair enough assessment. Still he found himself doubting, “Is this one of those... magicians never reveal their secrets things?” He quirked a brow at the snort of laughter that his question prompted,  
  
“I juggle swords and tell fortunes, I’m not a magician. And its no big secret.” Molly rolled to his side and matched Caleb’s thoughtful gaze. Though coming from him it tended a bit on the side of predatory, “Its just something that works for me. Thought it might work for you too.”  
  
“It was so simple.”  
  
“The best solutions are often the simplest, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Caleb shrugged one shoulder and didn’t pay a huge amount of attention to Molly as he gathered himself up and made sure all his jewelry was still accounted for and not missing among the bedrolls. He was still half expecting some kind of magical rune to appear on his hand and explain everything away.   
  
“Don’t think so far into it,” Molly’s voice snapped him back out of his head again, it seemed to be quite good at that, “Just... give a nudge if you need it again. Can’t have our favorite wizard going without his beauty sleep can we?”  
  
It was Caleb’s turn to laugh, short and disbelieving, and he shook his head, “Oh, yes. Definitely that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna try and flip flop between silly fluff and h/c fluff for these. We shall see!  
> Thank you for stopping by :)


	3. Raspberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes a sudden and unexpected intrusion to snap out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, Caleb overthinking things, Canon typical violence, Canon typical alcohol use

The first time Caleb could remember it happening they were camping. They’d made a hasty trip out of town that morning after someone there had a less than tolerant reaction to Nott. And it wasn’t as though that was something new, because it wasn’t, it was that Caleb had been so focused on a handful of other things that what Nott was doing had completely escaped his attention. And it shouldn’t have. Her safety was supposed to be top priority, and thinking back on it, he couldn’t even remember what had been so important to divert his attention in the first place.   
  
He had been pacing while everyone else was pitching camp for the evening. The brisk clip they’d traveled at had kept him sufficiently occupied all afternoon, but now that they’d stopped there was little else to do but remember and regret.   
  
Everyone swore things had turned out alright; they’d plucked Nott out of harm’s way just in time, Beau stood between her and the guards long enough for a speedy retreat to be made, and they all piled into the cart and left exactly as roughed up as they had come. It was a pity that shopping for supplies was cut short, and perhaps they’d have to be a bit careful how quickly they ran through their food until the next patch of civilization. But nobody had been hurt, or arrested, or Gods forbid, worse.   
  
Jester assured them all that “that town was stinky and boring anyway,” and that she was happy to be rid of it. It had made Nott smile, at least, but Caleb was acutely aware of the note of disappointment beneath her voice. She had been looking forward to more nights in a proper bed; they all had. And some hot food, and a few drinks, and now all they had was a campfire and stale rations and Caleb knew it was his fault.   
  
“How could it possibly be your fault?” Somebody had asked when he’d said so out loud during the day. He supposed they’d at least done a good job sounding confused to cover up how they were only humoring him. He supposed he also ought to be comforted that they’d put in the effort.   
  
“It just is.” He’d replied. It was short and clipped and he immediately regretted sounding so sour. Either way the topic was dropped.   
  
And so it came as a surprise when, after so carefully selecting a spot on the opposite side of camp where he’d be out of everyone’s hair and not under foot, he nearly paced flat into Jester. He hadn’t even heard her approach.   
  
“You are thinking definitely way too loud over here,” she told him, put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back across the way toward the fire and everyone else, “And also you’ve done enough grumping, and we are having dinner now so come and sit with us at least.”  
  
Caleb could think of at least half a dozen things offhand that he’d rather be doing than sitting among the people who he had caused such trouble for. If only he’d been paying attention earlier, he could have stopped Nott from being seen, could have made a distraction, could have used magic, or—or—or—  
  
It was more startling than Caleb cared to admit to be forcibly plopped down on a scavenged log and have a dish of food thrust into his hands. Beau, on his one side, offered him a quick nod in greeting, but was much more focused on her plate. On his other side Jester made herself comfortable and chattered away about what she might draw between bites. It was all terribly friendly and casual and Caleb had never felt more awkward.   
  
He thought about the hot meal of meat and potatoes he could have had at the tavern. He thought of the fire whiskey Fjord had been so excited for. And the bakery Jester had spotted on their way in. And the real beds no one was going to have that night. And he felt just awful. All those things lost because of him.   
  
Around the fire everyone ate and talked and smiled. And surely it was an act. Surely they were just pretending everything was fine to spare his feelings. Caleb wasn’t sure if he was flattered that they’d try, or insulted that they thought he’d be so easily fooled. It wasn’t like he was unused to it; if he’d only had a copper for every time he’d mucked something up he’d be somewhere far away in a mansion paying people to ignore is shortcomings.   
  
“Sheesh, you scowl any harder your face’ll get stuck like that,” it was Beau who yanked him out of his thoughts and Caleb glanced over to find her regarding him mid-bite, “What’s eatin’ you? Something wrong with your food?”  
  
“No.” Caleb said and set his mouth in a hard line. He had a laundry list of things that were ‘eating him’ he could name. And for a moment he indulged the fantasy of bursting into a rant and naming every single one. But it always circled right back around. He’d said it before, and it was still just as true: he was not a brave man.   
  
“He is just still thinking very loudly,” Jester cut in, leaning right into Caleb’s space and nudging him with her elbow, “Even though we have all said about a bazillion times now that there is not a problem and nobody’s even angry at all.”  
  
“Oh, jeeze, this is still the same crap from this morning?” Beau said and her eyebrows shot up like it was actually a surprise, “Dang, no wonder you look so tired all the time. Where’s the off switch for all the worrying?”  
  
Caleb opened his mouth to retort, to snap back, to—he didn’t know what. He just knew he didn’t have the patience for so much patronizing after everything else. If it were only so easy as flipping a switch. He thought about maybe saying so, but there was Jester again,  
  
“Oh, I know that one!” She chirped and leaned in closer. There was a brief moment Caleb was concerned she meant to kiss him. And that would have been the icing on the anxiety cake. So it was fortunate (or perhaps not) that her plan turned out to be slightly different.  
  
The arm around his shoulder that pulled him in was a new and unwelcome development, and Caleb tensed up, already mortified. But instead of a kiss, when Jester’s lips touched his cheek, she blew out the huge breath she’d sucked in just before with the loudest, rudest, most wet-sounding noise Caleb had ever heard. Never mind that it was right in his ear, and—oh Gods everyone was looking.   
  
It took a painfully long moment for his mind to lurch back into gear and he stared back at Jester with his mouth hanging open. She seemed positively delighted and flung a bright smile back in his face,  
  
“You see? It worked! Look at how much you are not worrying already!”  
It wasn’t entirely true; there were very few moments in a day that Caleb wasn’t worrying over _something_. Just now he had something new and unique to fret about like being stared at or the likelihood of Jester doing it again, that the troubles of that morning were far from his focus.   
  
“Come on, Jester, leave the poor man alone,” Fjord was calling from opposite them. He had a tone of practiced, almost parental disappointment, but the laughter was still audible beneath his voice. Caleb busied himself with wiping his cheek on his sleeve to avoid meeting eyes with him, or anyone else. The fact that he hadn’t dropped his entire plate of dinner in the commotion he decided was some kind of miracle.   
  
“We used to call them raspberries,” Jester supplied, completely unbidden, “And they are very distracting.” She turned back to Caleb and he quickly scooted away before she could get her hands on him again.   
  
“Really? Thats not what we called it,” Beau said with the sound of a smile in her voice, and seemed unbothered at being knocked into as Caleb retreated. Jester was thankfully distracted by this and the terrifying prowling she had been doing went by the wayside in favor of simple curiosity,  
  
“What did you call it then?”  
  
“Mouth farts.” Beau said with a grin, and the camp descended into laughter.   
  
  
  
The second time Caleb remembered it happening they were again in civilization, crammed into a couple of rooms at the inn to save coin. It was small, and stuffy because the window refused to open more than a crack, and surely they could have done better if funds weren’t so tight.   
  
Between towns they’d run into a bit of trouble, and amongst other much more pressing injuries Caleb had taken an arrow in the shoulder. The wound had long since been healed, but his coat on the other hand, needed a bit of mending yet. Its what he’d said he’d retired in order to do, and truly it had been his intent. But Caleb found himself unfocused on his task. Sitting and staring blankly at the sewing kit in his lap was much more agreeable.   
  
It wasn’t that he really thought the encounter had been his fault, far from it. They didn’t exactly plan to be jumped on the road, and there was only so much preparing for it they could have done anyway. It was more accurate to say he was just noticing with unpleasant clarity how outmatched he was amid a group of people so at home in a fight. He’d used the cart as a shield for most of the scuffle, lobbed a few spells perhaps, but they were pot shots at best. Next to the broken noses and oozing stab wounds his companions sustained, the graze of an arrow was trivial.   
  
He’d told Jester not to bother, but she wouldn’t hear of it. He’d tried to insist her time and effort were better put to use elsewhere, and she’d given him such a look that the protest died on his tongue. It didn’t stop him from thinking it, though. And he thought about it all the way into town, to the inn, and up creaky stairs into the room.   
  
He had the habit of getting rather lost in his own head when he thought, and so it very much escaped his attention when the door creaked open. Didn’t even realize he was no longer alone until the conversation he wasn’t part of carried on,  
  
“See, it is just like I said: up here all alone doing nothing.” It was Jester’s voice, but two sets of footsteps entered. Caleb turned slowly to look over his shoulder just as Molly crossed the distance from the door to the bedside,  
  
“Come on, then,” he said with the note of false irritation he always swore was genuine, “You’ve been off in your head all day, time to rejoin reality.”  
  
“No I—I need to finish this,” Caleb said mechanically and turned back to the kit he held, fidgeting with the latch on it. He heard it when Jester whispered “I told you” because she very much did not whisper it. Molly shushed her before returning his attention back to Caleb. The bed shifted where he braced his knee against it to lean over,  
  
“Don’t tell me this is still about the fight from before?” He prompted and the way he said it made it quite clear that he already knew it was. Caleb didn’t even give him a reply one way or the other, just made the sort of hum a person might do to just convey they were paying attention. Jester was quick with the confirmation,  
  
“Its totally for sure still about the fight from before,” Caleb could just picture the way she folded her arms and thrust her hip to the side to aid the whole annoyed-with-you visual, “Everybody’s good at something and Caleb’s the best at worrying for really, really way too long all the time.” She fell quiet when Molly shushed her more earnestly.   
  
“Look,” he said as he turned back, “That’s been over and done with all day. Put it aside, come have a drink, you’ll feel better.” He really did sound quite genuine and Caleb supposed that was probably flattering coming from Molly. Even so, he shook his head,  
  
“I’m going to stay here, if its all the same.” He began to get the inkling that something was in the works when Molly heaved a long suffering sigh,  
  
“Well, let no one say I didn’t _try_ ,” he said, and about the time Jester stifled a giggle Caleb knew he’d made the wrong choice. It was too late to amend it though because the very next moment he found himself yanked backwards and Molly was blowing a raspberry into the curve of his neck. He managed to get in two or three more before Caleb finally wiggled free amid a flurry of abstract cursing. He found safety on the floor on the opposite side of the bed and looked up to see Molly smothering a grin,  
  
“Quit worrying and come downstairs, or there’ll be more where that came from,” he said and he was definitely very serious. He had a particular smile that just radiated mischief. There was no doubt in Caleb’s mind that Molly would happily follow through. And so in the face of that, what choice did he have?  
  
Two hours later after a proper meal and a couple of drinks, Caleb had to admit he did feel better. But he did so privately, so as not to give anyone the satisfaction of being right about the matter.   
  
  
  
The third time it happened it was Nott, and she’d flung all pretense of personal space and boundaries out the window in order to do it. She’d burst into the tent where Caleb had been laying among the bedrolls avoiding conversation, leapt into his lap (and that had frankly already been distraction enough), and jammed her entire head beneath his tunic in order to blow a raspberry right into his stomach.   
  
It was a small blessing that Caleb did not manage to accidentally un-pitch the tent for how suddenly he jerked away. He wasn’t sure what descriptor he might apply to the noise that tumbled out of his mouth, other than perhaps embarrassing, and by the time he had his bearings back again, Nott was already gone. He couldn’t even protest. She’d scurried out of the tent absolutely cackling; it was hardly a moment before her voice carried back, excited and gushing with pride,  
  
“I did it, I did it! It worked!”   
  
Caleb no longer remembered what the problem had been that day.   
  
  
  
After that, and much to Caleb’s dismay, it became a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pioneering a new genre. Its called 'Bothering Caleb'. Someone join me :'>  
> Thank you for stopping by!


	4. Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody has the patience for this, but he just _can't stop_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb being overly anxious, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, if you squint you could probably call it molly/caleb I guess

Caleb fell into sorries the same way someone else might fall into the use of an interesting new phrase. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to decide when he’d started, and neither could anyone else. But the fact of the matter was that he had. And now he couldn’t stop.   
  
It had been innocent enough, something had gone wrong and Caleb was the first to murmur apologetically. It hadn’t been his fault, strictly speaking, but there was something so painfully _him_ about offering an undue apology that it diffused the whole situation. And perhaps that had been the first mistake; allowing him to accept the blame he didn’t deserve. Or perhaps it would have happened anyway. Who was to say?  
  
Then all at once everything was a sorry, and nobody could remember when it had escalated or why, but there they all were. It would have been one thing if Caleb apologized for things that were actually wrong, and to be fair he did do that as well. It was entirely another when even so much as a “We saved you some breakfast” was met with a quiet, guilty little “Sorry.” As if it were even remotely an issue.   
  
Unsurprisingly, Beau was the first to grow tired of the endlessly repeating pattern,  
  
“Why the _fuck_ are you sorry?” She snapped, rounding on Caleb with one finger pointed accusingly at his chest, “There’s nothing to be sorry about! Nothing’s even happening! What, is there a secret problem? Invisible murderers you’re not telling us about?” She threw her arms wide and gestured around at all the surrounding nothing, “Where is it? Its not here!” She was well and properly angry up until Caleb shrank away from her like he’d been struck. Then she swung much farther to the side of ashamed than she had been prepared for, and quickly shut her mouth. The issue was immediately dropped.   
  
Fjord had a smidge more tact when it finally got under his skin. When he shifted further into the booth to make room for Caleb to sit, and instead of a ‘thank you’ (or hell, he’d have even settled for silence) he got a soft, little ‘sorry’, he went for a joke,  
  
“Alright, that settles it, the word ‘sorry’ is now banned.” He had the sound of a smile in his voice, and the others cracked ones to match and stifled chuckles. Fjord thought for a moment he’d solved the problem. Then he glanced back to Caleb and he looked so terrified and put on the spot that it hurt to look at. Fjord back pedaled frantically, “H-hey I’m just kidding,” he said. It was distressing how little it seemed to help.   
  
Caleb disappeared to a far corner of the tavern not long after, unsurprisingly murmuring a tiny, panicked apology as he went, and spent the evening with his nose in a book. Fjord did not make any further comments.   
  
“He just... does this sometimes,” Nott tried to explain another day when they were on the road and Caleb was trudging a bit behind the cart to keep out of the way, “It usually dies down on its own.”  
  
“And how long does that take?” Jester asked. She had gathered enough from everyone else’s lack of success that demanding that Caleb stop only made it worse, and had elected to keep her mouth shut on the matter. It did not, however, keep her from heaving big, dramatic sighs whenever the next needless apology popped up. And the way Caleb flinched in the face of that was quite telling.   
  
“Its always different,” Nott said with more than a hint of dismay beneath her voice, “Days? Weeks? Longer maybe? I hope not.” Nobody was happy with that answer.   
  
When they made the next town no one spoke. They found an inn, secured rooms, made sure the horse and cart were properly looked after, and trickled off one by one to do a bit of exploring before dark. All in silence lest any of them be the trigger of the next sorry.   
  
Caleb, for his part, looked completely miserable when he wordlessly slipped out of the tavern to do his own shopping. Alone. And from the look of him he was acutely aware of that detail.   
  
It was a very long time before he returned. Well after dark, and well after a reasonable hour to go anywhere. The common area of the inn was empty, the hearth barely still smoldering, even the owner had already gone off to bed. Caleb was just quietly thankful the door hadn’t been locked as he slipped inside.   
  
It was with practiced care that he crept across the room and down the hall. He had been in enough places he wasn’t welcome that he had a bit of a knack for avoiding creaky floorboards and the like. Not nearly as good as Nott was perhaps, but her level of expertise was hardly necessary to sneak into bed.   
  
With barely a sound, Caleb unlocked the room’s door, eased it open and slipped in. It was predictably dark, though the blinds were open enough that a bit of moonlight pooled onto the floor. Enough to make out the shapes of the furniture and know what not to knock into. Caleb slipped up to the bedside table, more or less blind, and began placing his books—the old ones and the one or two he’d picked up just that night—into a pile there.   
  
He froze at the soft sound of the bedsheets rustling and the mattress creaking as its occupant turned over. There was a beat of silence in which Caleb opened his mouth to tell Nott to go back to sleep, to not mind him and that he’d quiet down in a moment. When the voice that addressed him was suddenly and terrifyingly Not Nott, he was briefly immobilized by panic and wondered how he had managed to stumble into a stranger’s room.   
  
“Finally you’re back,” the voice murmured sleepily and it was only in hindsight that Caleb realized he absolutely should have recognized who it belonged to. It didn’t click until the little oil lamp on the table flickered into life; panic was funny like that, “We were worried.”  
  
He stood there frozen for a long moment, watching Molly stretch and untangle himself from the covers, all half lidded eyes and mussed up hair. It took much longer than Caleb would have liked for his brain to get itself off the looping track of ‘this isn’t Nott, where is Nott, is this the wrong room’ and on to more useful thought processes. Except it didn’t. It fell back on the usual, and the easiest thing to say was tumbling out of him before he could stop himself,  
  
“I-I’m sorry, no need to trouble yourself,” Caleb said as Molly hauled himself out of bed. Even as he said it he winced. Knew just as well as any of the others how tired they all were of hearing it. The way Molly paused suddenly was unexpectedly painful to behold and Caleb shrunk a little, “I— w-where is Nott?” He tried to forcibly wrench his thought process in another direction. _Any_ other direction.   
  
“With the girls. She switched with me,” Molly said with an easy shrug. He really must have been tired, all the usual snark was gone from his voice, “Was going to wait up to tell you, but...” he stifled a yawn into the back of his hand and gestured to indicate the rest of the thought. It had gotten late, “I’ll move to the floor. S’your bed.” So speaking he wandered over to where his pack was to get a bedroll set up.   
  
It felt as though Caleb’s entire being was twisted into painful knots. He lifted a hand like it was going to stop him, but Molly’s back was already turned,  
  
“You don’t have to— I can just— It doesn’t matter—“ he tried several different starts but couldn’t get to the end of any of them. Had to again fall back on a quiet, “I’m sorry.” He was staring at the floor when Molly stopped and slowly turned back around.   
  
“Caleb.” He said. And it was every bit as quietly spoken. There was nothing even the slightest bit threatening about it but Caleb still rather felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He tensed up when Molly took steps across the room toward him; every nerve in his body prickled with the urge to just flee. It would be easier than having to explain himself. Explain how it _was_ his fault. How _everything_ was his fault. The fact that people so much as felt the need to do things for him proved it; that he was incapable of adequately taking care of his own affairs. That everyone else had to pick up his slack. He was so tired of being a burden. He wished he could just do one thing right.   
  
The stuttering, anxious breath he sucked in when Molly took his hands was quite a bit more telling than Caleb was comfortable with. Though he supposed comfort was the last thing he could expect from himself given the situation. He was so tired of wrecking things. So tired of causing problems.   
  
“Stay with me, Caleb, you’re alright,” Molly whispered, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on the backs of his hands, “You don’t need to apologize to me. But if it helps, then go right ahead.”  
  
“Sorry,” Caleb whispered back, a little harsh and a little shrill but Gods, it felt good to have permission, “Sorry... I’m so sorry.”  
  
“I know, I know, its alright,” Molly murmured, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. Caleb was unprepared to be so comforted by that and he gasped up another shuddering breath in spite of his best efforts to keep it quiet. He had his eyes firmly fixed on the floorboards but he could still tell when Molly frowned, “Come here, its okay,”  
  
It was probably due in large part to all the hysterical half-thoughts buzzing around in him that left Caleb so startled to be drawn into a tight hug. To have his hair petted and his head tucked beneath Molly’s chin. There was a second that he didn’t know what to do with himself, but by the next it felt very natural and very safe to knot his fingers into Molly’s shirt and just hang on.  
  
It took many long minutes of standing there and clinging before Caleb felt like he had come back to himself enough to step back. The urge to bolt had subsided at least, though he still felt heavy and unpleasant all around. It was still much too difficult to meet Molly’s eyes—particularly since he was teetering on the edge of unwanted tears, so he stared at some point down and to the side instead,  
  
“I am... sorry I woke you,” he whispered and he wasn’t sure if it was relief or regret he felt when Molly’s voice had the note of a smile in it,  
  
“Its alright.” His one hand was still at the back of Caleb’s neck, smoothing his hair down, “Come sit, you look like you could use a good sleep.”  
  
Caleb found himself tugged out of his coat and scarf and plopped on the edge of the bed. He watched numbly as Molly stooped to pull his boots off as well,  
  
“You— I can do that,” he said quickly, and knitted his brows together when Molly just offered a casual shrug,  
  
“I think of the two of us, you could use a couple fewer things to worry about. Even if its just something small.” He had his head bent toward the task at hand, so Caleb couldn’t really be sure, but for a second he could swear he saw a fond little smile cross Molly’s face, “I can’t say I know what the real problem is, or why its come up,” he went on once he’d finished and stood, and Caleb let himself be arranged under the blankets, “But if its got you needing to apologize for every minor inconvenience, I can only imagine how terrible it must feel.”  
  
Caleb made a low, unpleasant noise of confirmation in the back of his throat. He’d had all sorts of excuses prepped for the inevitability of being asked what his problem was. Somebody had to take responsibility; he was just sorry that the things had happened, not necessarily that he blamed himself for them; if he held himself accountable then no one else would have to. And so on, and so forth, and it all fell flat because Molly _understood_.  
  
“Try and get a bit of rest, it’ll be better in the morning.”   
  
The cold stab of panic that hit Caleb in the chest when Molly moved to lay out his bedroll was a shock. And looking back he wasn’t fully sure why it had happened in the first place, but there in the moment all he knew was that being alone in the bed was absolutely the last thing he wanted. He counted himself lucky when he was quick enough to catch Molly’s hand before he got too far.   
  
He had ‘wait’ on the tip of his tongue. He’d meant to say it. But it got stuck hiding in the back of his throat, so Caleb more or less just sat there looking terrified. A flicker of surprise passed over Molly’s face before it settled back into the nonthreatening neutral he had been wearing prior. Caleb knew he hadn’t made the request out loud, and was quietly thankful for how preceptive Molly was when he whispered,  
  
“Alright.”  
  
He took a second to turn the lamp down before climbing over Caleb and settling on his other side. It was only a single bed and they only both fit by tangling their legs. Molly wrapped one arm around Caleb’s shoulders and the other around his waist, pulling him in close. It was cramped, there was hardly enough pillow for both of them, and surely someone was going to wind up with no blankets over the course of the night. But it was the most comfortable Caleb had felt in ages.   
  
He was unable to suppress a shudder when Molly carded his hand through his hair again. It was a pleasant distraction at least, and Caleb focused on it instead of the confusing jumble of the rest of his thoughts,  
  
“I told you to give a nudge if you needed something,” Molly whispered, his arms briefly tightening in a hug, “I meant it. Alright? Any time.”  
  
“...didn’t want to be a bother,” Caleb murmured and it hurt to say it out loud. Like it was only made real by the admission that he’d felt it. There were so many other facets: I never feel worthy of attention, let alone comfort or affection; I’m a burden to everyone I meet, why should I make it worse; What I need I can’t bring myself to ask for. The list spiraled on endlessly.   
  
Caleb made a little noise of surprise when Molly all at once pulled back. He was scared for a moment that speaking had somehow been the final straw and he was about to be cast out. Then Molly had both hands on his cheeks, squishing them softly,  
  
“Listen to me,” he said, “You’re not a bother. You have never once been a bother. I wouldn’t have offered if I hadn’t been fully serious. What do I look like, some kind of liar?” He chuckled and shifted back to the comfortable embrace again, “Don’t answer that.”  
  
Caleb couldn’t quite smother a little smile, but he did manage to squash the pang of guilt for feeling an emotion other than misery. He needed all the stupid, insignificant victories he could get, though, so he took that one.   
  
“Want a bit of terrible advice?” Molly went on, and it was too dark to see but there was the sound of a smile in his voice again. It was disarming. Caleb shrugged,  
  
“What is it?” His stomach twisted up in an entirely different way when Molly audibly swallowed a little snicker,   
  
“Next time you need to apologize about... whatever... just say ‘fuck you’ instead. It feels a lot better, believe me.” Oh, that was some terrible advice if Caleb had ever heard any. Still it fell at just the right degree of absurd to make him crack a smile. He was tired and beyond caring whether or not Molly saw it in the dark.   
  
“Seems... aggressive.” Caleb said and the only indication of the nod that prefaced the reply was the way the pillow shifted,  
  
“Exactly. No one will see it coming and they’ll all be so shocked they’ll forget how grouchy and terrible they’re being. Foolproof.” Truly.   
  
  
  
Morning came with the typical amount of rushing around as the patrons of the inn hurried to get back on the road. Those staying put had an easy enough time keeping out of the way and focused on breakfast. Predictably, Caleb was the last to turn up. Quietly, and with a book under his arm.   
  
A casual observer might look at him and think it was just sleepiness still lingering. Someone who knew him better would call it typical Caleb looking nervous as usual. It took a very dedicated observer to pick up on the particular flavor of anxious: the ‘I have upset absolutely everyone here at least once in the last few days and am concerned about how welcome I am at this table’ kind.   
  
Molly pushed out an empty chair for him as he approached, “Morning, sunshine. Finally done sleeping the day away?”  
  
The scattered conversation died so suddenly it was jarring. Caleb was unpleasantly aware of how the others looked over, their expressions caught between being shocked at Molly’s flippant disregard, and apprehensive for the next undue and unwanted apology.   
  
They didn’t see the wink. The ‘go on, fight me’, mischievous little wink. Caleb swallowed thickly. Then he gathered up his wits, very deliberately took his seat, and deadpanned,  
  
“Bite me.”  
  
Somebody gasped audibly. Beau choked on her drink and managed to spill it all down her front. Someone else fumbled their fork and it hit the floor. Every last one of them stared, open mouthed. Except for Molly. He just laughed,  
  
“Fantastic!” He reached over and gave Caleb a playful shove, “See how much better that feels? Keep that up. What are you all looking at? Eat your damn breakfast.” He was at least kind enough to break the tension he’d created.   
  
Caleb was happy to instead put his focus solidly into reading and pretend not to notice the bewildered glances being flung at him. He knew he would never have Molly’s penchant for defying expectations, but he had to admit it was entertaining to have pulled off. And since he was admitting things, it _did_ feel better.   
  
He’d have to keep that in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hitting that inevitable point where I look at what I make and decide I can do a lot better... and then accidentally fall off the map til its where I want it. But I'll at least get through the little bit left in my buffer first :>  
> Thank you guys for all the compliments and everything, ya'll really brighten my day so much!


	5. Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb's absolutely, completely, definitely not prepared to hear that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon typical violence, Mentions of blood, Non graphic mentions of injury, Hurt/Comfort, caleb/fjord if you squint maybe

After everything else that had happened that day, the last thing Caleb needed was to take a blow. But he had, because whether or not he thought himself a coward apparently had little bearing on what he did when his friends were threatened. And perhaps he’d also tried to call the wrong bluff. But that was neither here nor there.   
  
It was a funny thing to look back on and realize. Any other time he would have certainly made a point of avoiding large, rough-looking macho types. Particularly ones who moved through a tavern specifically seeking out smaller, milder looking patrons to terrorize. That had bad news written all over it in big red letters. So Caleb found himself wondering where the cold, controlled anger had come from in himself when their attention had fallen on him and the rest of the group.    
  
Any other time he would have fled, or shrank from the conflict, or pressed himself further into the corner to avoid catching their focus. He hadn’t the slightest clue what part of him thought placing himself bodily between the brutes and the rest of his group was the best course of action. And from the scattered protests, neither did anyone else.   
  
Caleb couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said, or what sort of offensive drivel was spat back at him. He didn’t know if he’d been the one to escalate, or if it had been more to the effect of ‘leave them alone, take me instead.’ All he remembered was the sense of calm, watching the man’s jaw tighten, thinking to himself what proper imbeciles they looked like all puffed up the way they were. And then... well, he stopped remembering things in a helpful way after that.   
  
He could recall the sensation of his back hitting the edge of the table. Had some idea of a great amount of noise going on very far away: a commotion of some kind. He remembered feeling dizzy and heavy when an arm was slung around his waist, and thinking that he definitely wasn’t moving his feet the right way when everything heaved into motion. After that there were flashes of light, disembodied shouts, his face felt wet, he tasted copper. And then for a long while there was nothing. It wasn’t until quite a bit later that he could look back and realize he may well have been mildly concussed.   
  
Caleb came back to himself on the floor of their rented room, propped up against the edge of the bed. It took an absurd amount of effort to focus his eyes and actually comprehend what was going on around him, but he got there eventually.   
  
Somewhere far away he could hear voices shouting over the sounds of a scuffle. The door was open a crack and the hallway seemed impossibly bright. He started a bit when all at once Fjord was in front of him. Why did he look so concerned? His mouth moved but Caleb’s head was swimming in fog and he couldn’t quite pay attention enough to figure out what was said.   
  
Jester was through the door next, pausing only long enough to hand Fjord something before whatever was going on down the hall recaptured her attention and she flitted back out. Caleb only realized in hindsight that her knuckles were bruised and covered in somebody else’s blood. It was a small comfort, at least that she’d had a big smile on for the whole interaction.   
  
The entire world lurched into painful clarity at the application of a towel full of ice to his forehead and Caleb screwed his eyes shut and groaned. He tried to shift away but Fjord’s hand on his shoulder kept him from going very far. A couple of distracted, garbled profanities tumbled out of him before he had enough concentration for an entire sentence. And even then, it wasn’t much of a sentence,  
  
“Wha—what’s... oh Gods, my head.” He lifted a hand and batted at Fjord’s arm uselessly.   
  
“Easy there, tough guy,” Fjord said, and Caleb wasn’t sure if he was imagining the way he sounded fond and impressed. He opened his eyes and his vision swam, “You, uh,” Fjord paused and chuckled in the way people do when they aren’t sure what to say, “You took a hellava hit. M’ still tryin’ to get you cleaned up.”  
  
Caleb groaned, wilting, “I was afraid you might say that. What did—? I can hardly remember...”  
  
A resounding crash startled them both and the sound of whoops and cheers drifted up from below. Caleb dragged his gaze up to study Fjord’s face for a hint. He supposed it couldn’t have been all that bad judging by how he grinned.   
  
“Reckon that’ll be the crownsguard taking out the trash.” Fjord said. When he turned back his grin went more in the direction of... humbled? “What got into you, getting in the way of a bunch like that?”  
  
“I... don’t know,” Caleb whispered. And the current fuzzy state of his thinking was surprisingly, not the cause. By all counts it did not make sense. He was much too distracted to give it a whole lot more thought, “I feel... just awful.”   
  
“You look about as much, if I’m being honest,” Fjord said and shrugged one shoulder. He withdrew the ice pack and instead plucked a damp rag from an adjacent bowl of water. It stung terribly as he used it to dab at Caleb’s brow. When he moved away to rewet it, it was stained red, “I’ve never seen anything like that. You were... just really something else.”  
  
Caleb wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a compliment or not. Absolutely every part of him ached, his head throbbed, he was bleeding. And why? To stand up to some thugs for no reason? He’d had a rough day, fine, but he was still rather sure he preferred unhappiness and safety to impulse judgements and being in pain. Surely any of the others could have done the same, but to better effect. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to have to consider whether he’d done it with the intent of being hurt. Like it was what he deserved.  
  
“I know that look,” Fjord said, voice all low and gravely, and Caleb realized with a stab of panic that absolutely all of his thought process had also gone across his face. He was dizzy. He couldn’t think straight. He hated it. Wished he’d stayed in his seat and skipped the whole miserable affair, “Hey, listen, that was a damn brave thing you did, and don’t you make any mistake.”  
  
“It was stupid.” Caleb murmured. Downstairs the noise had dulled just some, and had transitioned in the direction of chairs scraping the floors and tables being moved. There was the occasional bubble of applause after someone would speak. It sounded far away.   
  
“You heard all that commotion?” Fjord asked with a nod toward the door, “All that yellin’ and fighting going on before? You know what that was?” Caleb hadn’t the energy to do much else besides shrug, “That was the sound of the whole damn bar coming together to beat the living hell out of those men you stood up to. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He gave a short, sort of disbelieving laugh and shook his head, “Just takes one person bein’ brave sometimes. And everybody else gets up and takes notice cause’ they’re feeling every bit as pissed off. The whole lot of em’ are spending the night in a cell now, an everybody here is celebrating.”  
  
Caleb gazed back numbly, “That sounds like quite a lot of things I did not do.” He said quietly. Every nerve in his body prickled when Fjord reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Caleb, you are the bravest man I know.” He said and it had such finality. Even through the haze and the pain Caleb was intimately aware of how sincere it was. His stomach twisted up. He forgot to breathe for a second. “Maybe you don’t think so. And... fine, you know? That’s fine. I just think it doubly to make up for it.”   
  
His smile was soft and genuine and Caleb could tell he meant every word. The little anxious voice in the back of his head that often said otherwise was strangely quiet. In its absence though, came a sense of dread. He knew where this speech was headed and he definitely did not have the energy to not fall to pieces. Caleb tried to find enough words, or even so much as a noise to stop him, but Fjord went on,  
  
“All this bad stuff happens, and I haven’t always been there or been able to be supportive. And maybe I should’ve. But you just get back up. And you keep going. And... shit, I—I never saw anything so impressive as what you did downstairs tonight. You didn’t even blink you just—?” Fjord trailed off into a sort of helpless laugh, and he reached around to rub the back of his neck for lack of anything to do with his hands. Caleb was acutely aware of how the other one gave his shoulder a little squeeze. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t— “Anyway,” Fjord looked back, “I’m proud of you. Proud to know you. You’re a good man, Caleb.”  
  
“Don’t...” he said too late, and he knew it had been coming and he should have steeled himself. But he hadn’t. And now, completely unbidden, there were tears and he couldn’t have done a thing to stop them if he’d tried. The surprise in Fjord’s voice when he spoke was painful,  
  
“Hey now, whats...I didn’t mean—?” His hand faltered for only a second, but it was plenty of time for Caleb to draw his knees to his chest and hide behind his hands. Gods, it was just the worst timing. Fjord’s hands, both of them, were on his shoulders the next moment, “What’s wrong? Caleb, come out of there, I’m sorry,” he sounded so worried. So worried on Caleb’s behalf. He didn’t deserve that. He’d made a stupid, snap judgement, and maybe it had come from an honorable place and maybe it had come from a self destructive one. He couldn’t recall enough of the thought process to tell. But he did know Fjord needn’t bother. Not for somebody like him.   
  
“Its—its fine, don’t worry,” Caleb said quickly, before his voice could crack. Before Fjord could do anything else. Stop crying. Theres nothing to cry about. Pull it together, “Just—long day. I don’t... I wasn’t...”   
  
Wasn’t ready to be the object of such praise. Proud of him? There was just no way. Caleb was not the kind of man people were proud of, of that much he was certain. He could put on a face, perhaps, an act to fool them. But it wasn’t real, it was just a mask, a means to an end. But then what end had he been playing at before?   
  
Fjord’s hands pulled Caleb’s away from his face and— oh no, he was figuring it out,  
  
“Hey, I meant every word, okay?” He said firmly and a frown pulled the corners of his mouth when Caleb shook his head helplessly, “I do. I mean it. Why would I make that up? Way I figure, you could do to hear it a lot more.”  
  
“Fjord, no—“ the frown had flipped into this little fond smile and Caleb knew its like. It was the sort that meant he’d been seen through. The sort that prefaced—Gods, no—even more praise. And Caleb wasn’t positive, but he thought that there was a good chance that it would just kill him on the spot.   
  
So maybe it was a blessing when the door clattered open and snapped them both out of it,  
  
“He-ey! There’s the man of the hour!” Beau crowed and wobbled in on one foot and her staff for support, “That was the coolest shit I’ve ever seen! Tell me when you’re gonna start an uprising next time, I’d’ve jumped in sooner!” She looked as though she’d taken a fist or two to the face, but she still grinned like she’d just had her pick of everything she had ever wanted. It only dialed back a notch or two when she watched Caleb scrub his eyes and deliberately not meet her gaze, “Hey, whats wrong? You should be like... celebrating or something.”  
  
“He’s had a long day,” Fjord cut in before Caleb could stumble over an answer and make himself look like more of a fool, “Maybe we do the celebrating another time?”  
  
Beau looked briefly disappointed but there wasn’t a whole lot to be said in the face of a miserable, bleeding, trying-not-to-cry Caleb. He was relieved when she let it go without a fuss. Less relieved when the door was suddenly full of all the others,  
  
“What’s this I’m hearing about not celebrating?” Molly’s voice carried over, but just barely because Nott was flinging herself into Caleb’s arms with a cry of,  
  
“You’re alright! You hit the ground so hard, I thought— I didn’t know what to think! You’re so brave, Caleb! I always knew you were!” She had her arms wrapped around his neck and the way she jostled him wasn’t strictly the most welcome for how it made his head spin, but Caleb was thankful to at least be able to wrap his arms around her in kind and hide his face from everyone else. Jester’s voice came next,  
  
“Yeah, why are we not celebrating? The people downstairs want to name us heroes.” She paused when Molly murmured something that Caleb couldn’t hear. Jester continued in a tone that suggested she thought the correction wasn’t strictly necessary, “Okay, technically they want to name Caleb a hero first, technically, but we all helped so also the rest of us too.”  
  
“Listen, I think it can wait til’ the mornin’,” Fjord cut in. Caleb glanced up to watch him holding a hand out to diffuse everyone’s excitement, “Let ‘im get his head on straight before you toss him to a bunch of strangers.” He was privately very glad that Fjord knew without being told exactly what the problem was. Caleb swallowed thickly and willed his voice not to waver when he spoke up,  
  
“Why am I being named a hero?” He dragged his gaze up to look between each of the others. They all sported varying colors of bruises, some had hands pressed over cuts, some had their weight deliberately off one foot. Nott extracted herself from Caleb’s coat and she grinned despite the blood in her mouth,  
  
“We didn’t know it til just tonight, but those big baddies have been causing trouble around here forever!” She exclaimed, bouncing in her excitement to tell the story, “The guard never got there in time to stop them. Not til tonight!”  
  
“But—“  
  
“But,” Molly echoed as he stepped closer, and Caleb could see on him the beginnings of what would be a black eye in the morning, “When you stepped in, it gave everyone else the courage to stand together. Probably best you missed most of the bar fight, if we’re honest. But it was because of you that they’re in jail tonight. You’re a hero to these people, like it or not.”  
  
Caleb stifled a groan and ran a hand down his face, “Tell them I’ve died,” he mumbled, apparently much to everyone else’s amusement. If there was one thing he knew he couldn’t do just then, it was gracefully accept all the thanks and praise heroism likely came with. Not that he thought he ever did anything gracefully, and that only furthered his point anyway.   
  
“Tell em’ he’ll get back to them in the morning,” Fjord chuckled, clapping Caleb’s shoulder, “Think he’s a bit overloaded on compliments at the moment, anyway. Sorry bout’ that,” The last bit he turned and murmured to Caleb and smiled the way everyone liked for how handsome he looked doing it. It was to his benefit then, that Caleb was not meeting his gaze either.   
  
There was mixed acceptance and disappointment from the peanut gallery, and they began to trickle out the room again. Nott was among the last to leave, wringing one last, tight hug from Caleb and promising to bring him back something good to eat for a treat later. He watched her bound out the door to join the far off sounds of celebration drifting up from the bar.   
  
“Gonna be alright there?” Fjord finally asked, giving Caleb’s shoulder a final squeeze before withdrawing his hand, “Maybe wanna get up off the floor?”  
  
“If I do, I am getting straight into bed and never leaving it.” Caleb said with a sigh. He offered Fjord a tired smile when the man laughed,  
  
“Alright, fair enough.”   
  
He was kind enough to help steady him as Caleb attempted to stand. Though he plopped himself on the edge of the bed the very first moment he was able. Caleb blearily allowed Fjord to take one more pass with the damp cloth; it still stung but was apparently not bleeding as dramatically as before. It was enough to get him off the hook, at least.   
  
“Hey, listen,” Fjord said, after he’d tidied up all the various cloths and bowls of water and the like. Caleb had already sunk heavily into the bed and tossed his boots and coat and everything else that wasn’t totally necessary over the edge of it. He looked back at Fjord, still rather unfocused, and not caring that half of him yet dangled off the side of the mattress, “M’ gonna head down again. And if I know you, I know you’re gonna sit here makin’ yourself miserable.” Caleb had to admit that was probably true, “So I want to make this real clear. Whatever you’re about to tell yourself, regardless of how convincing you might think it is... what I said before? I meant it. And that’s a fact.”  
  
Caleb felt himself making a rather telling face, and didn’t have the energy to stop it, so he shifted to glance in another direction instead. Cleared his throat. Fidgeted. Kept himself from crying through sheer force of will. His stomach tied itself into knots at the sound of Fjord gently chuckling. Caleb wasn’t sure why he bothered to try and save face; he was transparent either way.   
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally replied, and chanced a quick glance after Fjord as he moved to shut the door behind him; it was easier than having to look him in the face,  
  
“Please do,” he said and—Gods, not the handsome smile again. He was gone down the hall before Caleb could react, which he supposed was fortunate.   
  
He could tell, off in the back of his mind, he really very much wanted to pick himself apart over the night’s events. The urge was there, as it so frequently was, but the long, spiraling train of thoughts couldn’t get itself going.   
  
Fjord was proud of him. Even the echo of the man’s voice was enough to threaten a fresh wave of tears. Caleb swallowed them back and instead focused on the part of himself that very much wanted to sleep and not think so much. Nobody had ever been proud of him. It was enough to keep all the other thoughts at bay.   
  
And so even after everything, Caleb went to sleep smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be the last one of this series for awhile, I think. Or at least the last one on a schedule. With some real life snafus going on I haven't had the time to write as much or with the quality I'd like and I don't want to just throw garbage at ya'll. I'll leave this as incomplete though, in case I have time soon to finish up the handful of other wips I've got laying around.  
> Any case, thank you all SO MUCH??? for all the support and kind comments, it makes me just. SO happy. that my self indulgent nonsense resonates with so many people. Love you guys <3


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